Let Me Know
by ChielRobhinne Bezarius
Summary: There was once a Queen. She died, yet she lives. There was this boy she met. She was no stranger in his eyes. Surely. he'll let her know.


**Disclaimer: **_Ciel Phantomhive is not mine._

A/N:

_The main character of this one-shot is based from a real-life person. Not all of the written accounts regarding that 'said person' are all real. This is just some sort of a Historical Fiction. _

_I hope you'll enjoy this. :)_

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**Let Me Know**

_London, England—1869_

"Hav' you heard of Jane?" She's just a typical lady, the one who just spoke. She's particularly young—though not that young to be called a girl—perhaps a little older to have _that kind of work _at East End. Her careless posture and choice of garment, which was a plain worn-out dress with a low seductive bodice, were proof enough of her current status.

Another lady was with her—the same as her if you'll look closely. "Mister Grey's daughter, y'mean?" She asked, while swirling with the tip of her finger a bundle of locks from her disheveled, brown hair.

"Yes, yes! Her! The poor lass."

"I heard she's unwell, yes. Is she dyin'?"

"Oh, no! Not at all!" she scoffed and leaned more closely to her companion to reach her ear. "The girl's crazy!"

"How so?"

"I'm tellin' you. She told m'brother that she was Queen befo'e n' had her head cut off or sometin' of the sort. Hav' you e'er heard of that one?"

"Never had a his'ry lesson since I was born," she answered, not showing any signs of regret. "The girl is but sad she was born 'ere at this side. Watch! She'll be a great actress, you'll see!" And there came the endless laughter. Ah, indeed, London's slums are so full of these tales. You won't have the chance to live in privacy on this kind of surrounding no matter what sort of human you are. Even for the royalties, there has never been an escape.

Not far from where the two ladies were, stood a petite-looking girl of sixteen. She has a long, reddish hair and a pair of poignant blue eyes—something which you could tell by the way she looks that she was very prone to tears. It was not her fault, for she just happened to pass by and heard the gossip. When you heard of someone talking about you, it is not really worth something to be proud of—especially if that something is very unreal. But for the little lady's case, half of it was real.

She's not crazy, but it's true—she _was_ a Queen before. Way, way back from the past 300 years or so.

_The rays of the morning sun greeted me as the curtains in my chamber were opened. I had just woken up and was just beginning to adjust my eyes from the blinding light outside. Some of the Chambermaids were already at the foot of my bed, waiting for any orders, while some were busy preparing the things needed for the day. I love the idea of waking up in the morning with someone to assist me with my stuff; but, all in all, I hate the idea of waking up so early and savoring the noises of untimely chatters. _

_ My feet dangled at the edge of my bed as I forced my lazy body to get away from the comforts of my beddings. Margaret, my favorite lady-in-waiting, immediately put a pair of warm slippers on my feet before it hit the cold flooring. I got up and she, then, followed me towards the bathroom to assist me with my bath. After slipping my nightgown off, I washed my face with the water in the basin that Margaret prepared and proceeded on washing my body afterwards. Then, I had help with my purple silk gown—just a simple outfit intended for today's activity. After all the preparations had been done, we head out for Mass at six. Right after the Bishop delivered his sermon, everyone returned to their homes to start the day, while we head back to the castle to have our breakfast. After the meal, I excused myself to my studies. The whole day was spent wisely, for I was able to acquire new knowledge that would be deem worthy in the future._

_I had a simple life. My everyday routine revolved around this simplicity. I am not a princess, never had been one, unlike my dear cousin, the Lady Elizabeth. I was a royalty by blood, yes; but being just a gentlewoman suited me best. I had great nurses, tutors, friends, sisters, and a loving queen. Everything I asked for was given to me. I had some peaceful days, left alone with my books and curiosity. I did not care about the life at court, although it greatly amused me to follow my cousin's grace and wit while serving under the late Queen Catherine Parr. My life was running smoothly, but not until King Edward—the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth's little brother—died from a sickness at the young age of fifteen. The throne was left with different personas trying to get their hands on it, counting up the reemergence of the everlasting issue on heritage. By law, the next in-line to the throne was the Lady Mary, followed by the Lady Elizabeth, then my mother and her heirs. But the princess was a Catholic, and it was greatly known that the young king was an avid Protestant like myself and his sister. In the late king's will, he had wished for me to take the throne, since the two princesses were declared bastards by the parliament. Against my will, I was proclaimed Queen of England on the 10th of July, year 1553._

"…being a Queen for merely nine days wasn't the end of it," she muttered. She was now standing outside a tailor's shop; her back resting on the hard concrete wall of the small building. She decided to walk away from the gossipers and had just chosen to recall what was left of her precious memory. Every single one of it stings both bitterly and sweetly. _How come she still had those feelings? _She had asked herself a lot of questions before, but merely just asking didn't help at all.

She kept on talking, not realizing that there was a pair of eyes (the same as hers, though much deeper in color) who had been examining her for quite some time now. That person was a little boy, ten years of age or less, who was dressed in a pretty expensive garb. His hair is dark—though it somehow has a bluish tint—and his skin is like pure white porcelain that you can even mistake him for a doll. For some, he was like the male epitome of that famous fairy tale character—Snow White. He was alone and seemed to be waiting for someone.

The young lady tilted her head to meet the gaze of the boy, who seemed a little surprised at the moment. Trying her best not to scare him, she smiled a bright smile and asked, "Is there something wrong, little boy?"

It took her a couple of minutes before she heard a low, shy question coming from him. "Was that an excerpt from history?" She couldn't utter a single word at first. How come a little boy his age was able to recognize such a thing while the others cannot? She felt a bit of happiness rushing through her entire body when she recognized that the glint in the boy's eyes were pure interest. "You were talking about her, right? Mommy read about her to me before," the boy continued. There was still a hint of curiosity in him, but his angelic face was replaced by a sad one. "Bloody Mary killed her. She was such a bad ruler for doing that to her own cousin. I hate her."

There it was—the tears. She couldn't help it; after remembering that unpleasant memory, sadness and hatred overwhelmed her entire being. The Lady Mary was a tyrant.

No. She was a liar.

She lied to _her_, to her sister, to her people, to her _god_, to everyone. She lied about being merciful—all because of her blind desire to marry and her concealed hatred for her _beloved_ half-sister, _all because of her rotten faith._ But she couldn't blame her. Mary, too, was afraid to lose what she had catered her entire life. It wasn't something rotten. The girl knows what it feels like to lose something she believes in. She was a Protestant and she couldn't bring herself to adhere to Catholicism, instead, even to the last heave of her breathe. Holding on to her faith had brought her to her death.

But, she wasn't dead.

She had died. But she was breathing now. She was alive—can move, see, hear, smell, touch, and she was even talking to a boy right now who was getting quite alarmed of her display of tears.

"What's wrong, big sister? Why are you crying?"

"I am just happy that I'm alive." She tried all of her best efforts to show him a genuine smile. When she did, the little boy smiled back at him.

"I thought you felt sad for the queen."

"That too, but I'm more than happy that I found someone whom I could share my sentiments with," she added. "You are a clever boy, have you realize that?"

The boy only gave her a blank stare.

"I guess you always hear that from others."

This time it was a coy smile. "You have a very good accent, big sister."

"I like to read just like you."

"Do you know Latin and Greek?"

"I can speak well both. I can do French and Italian, too—as well as Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic."

The boy gaped at her with too much awe. But a part of him says that what the lady had just said was far too similar to the academic attainment of the good Queen they were talking about. After giving out his praise, they both fell into a splitting silence until she asked another question.

"If you meet someone and she told you that she could still remember her past life, how would you react?"

"It would depend on the person and on how bizarre her story is."

"Would you believe me, then?"

The boy didn't answer. He just stared at her, examining her from head to toe. They stayed like that for minutes, until he asked his question. "Are you a liar like your cousin Mary?"

She was again at loss for words. Seconds later, her tears began to fall from her eyes. That one made the boy's eyes widened from shock. He had just confirmed a very impossible thing. On the other hand, she wanted to leap from joy and embrace the little boy, but she was just stiff frozen at her post. The moment she decided to speak, her urge was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door of the tailor's shop. There came out an amber-haired lady.

"Oh, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, my dear. Shall we head out?" It turned out that she was a relative of the boy—his mother, perhaps—and it was time to go. She took his hand and led him towards their awaiting carriage at the other side of the road. The girl could only stare in sadness as they slowly walk away. But before they entirely did so, the little boy turned to look at her for the last time with the words, "You were a noble Queen! You will not be forgotten, Lady Jane Grey!"

The sadness that procured on her face was replaced with a contented, blissful smile. "Yes, until we meet again."

_I had kept asking myself things like how come I had a different memory of what's supposed to suit my current life. When I was finally became aware of things, it was then when I remembered the past me. I was reborn into a different personality, a different body, a different family, a different lifestyle—but with the same image and with the same mind. I was still me. For countless number of times, I asked myself—why? Why me? I was prepared to face death. _

_Yes. I was ready when I went up to the scaffold. I stripped off myself from my gown—leaving only on me a pure white undergarment—handed my precious book of Psalms away, and covered my eyes with my fair handkerchief to shield my sight from the stares of the cruel world. I was ready when I put my head on the block, let alone waiting for the sharp blade to severe it from my body. I was able to welcome Death into my realm._

_But I wasn't able to let go._

Letting go was hard for her. When she had found herself on this new era, she had conditioned herself for a journey. A journey of finding what was missing of her. There's nothing wrong with her, 'though. What was missing wasn't something visible or touchable. It was some sort of a feeling.

_Recognition._

She just wanted genuine recognition from someone. And someone just did. She had found it. She was able to feel it. Now…

She is ready to let go.

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**A/N:** _That's all. This is just a trial one-shot. This one was not really a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction and was purely a historical fiction of mine.. I just experimented on it._

Lady Jane Grey was once a Queen of England, who only ruled for nine days. She's the cousin of Elizabeth I, as I had mentioned above. She was imprisoned in the tower of London and was beheaded (by the order of Mary I or 'Bloody Mary'). (For this infos, correct me if I'm wrong. I love British history so much, but I cannot claim that I know everything already.)

_If you guys have any questions, just pm me or review. And if you ended up liking this one and wanting a sequel or something, just tell me. _

_By the way, Ciel's role is more like a supporting character. Any violent reactions and suggestions?_


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